#the tags on that post are fucking bleak

[txttletale]

wow this is so brave. finally someone heroic enough to tell people they can be cis

[jtownraindancer]

top 5 burn characters go

Good gods Anon this is evil. Only five!??? 😭💕

I spent like three days trying to make up my mind on this, and I'm still not satisfied, but as of the moment, in no particular order:

The Best Boys

Mr. William Guppy of Kenge & Carboy, Bleak House

He's awkward, he's manipulative, he has no real social skills to speak of, and he's in love. I actually really disliked this character when I first read the book circa 2011, but as Burn seems wont to do, I ended up being completely won over in the end. ^_^; His Guppy is expressive, less a comic relief and almost sympathetic. I mentioned in a conversation with @synthapostate about how Guppy is technically an antagonist, but he's played in such a way that you really can't see it (unlike the book). Also the camera is half in love with Burn this entire series, and it makes it very, very easy to fall in love with this dorky, curly-haired puppy of a man.

Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, Pacific Rim & Pacific Rim: Uprising

I could write sonnets about Hermann for how much I've come to love him. 😅 He's one of the Characters of All Time for me. From his passion, his stubborn resilience, and his sharp humor, to his unwavering loyalty for those he cares for and his ability to care so deeply, how could I not irrevocably fall for him? (Also singlehandedly the cause of the 2023 Burn Binge.) Hermann found his way into my heart from the very beginning, but I never realized how at home he had made himself until the day I turned around and he was patiently waiting for me to see him. I think I fell for him and Newt in the same fell swoop, and my love for both of them is unwavering.

Dr. Owen Harper, Torchwood

I've been in love with this bastard since 2013; I've been repressing that adoration for 10 years. I- I don't really remember the exact moment that my opinion of Owen shifted from extreme dislike to him carving a permanent place in my very being, but there it is. He's sarcastic, an incorrigible flirt, and has one of the biggest, kindest hearts I've ever come across in fiction. At the time, I was pre-Med, and I aspired to be half as compassionate a doctor as him. After Exit Wounds, I gave up Torchwood (I couldn't, not with Tosh gone too.), but I've slowly been dipping my toes back in via Burn's reading of some of the books & the Big Finish audios. It's been 10 years, yet I think I'm more in love with this bastard than I ever was before. (And okay, I admit, he might be my favorite-favorite ^_^;)

Sgt. Detective William Blore, And Then There Were None

Bill, Bill, Bill... He's a crooked cop, he's tired of everyone's nonsense, he's filled with regret, he's probably gay. Detective Blore is yet another classic lit character that I first met back in the late 20-aughts, early 2010s who I really didn't care for. Then 2023 rolls around, and not only did I come to love him in this adaptation, but I've ended up going on an Agatha Christie bender because of it. Burn made me... well love would be too strong a word, but I definitely rank Blore as "a poor little meow meow."

Major Edmund Hewlett, TURN

How could this list be at all complete without including my beloved major? (Just picking a gif for this made me realise how badly I've missed him. 🥺) Edmund is... How do I explain how much I adore this guy? How do I possibly pin down the levels of pride I have in his journey, in his growth, explain the way my heart aches at the twists and turns that will tear him apart and build him back even stronger? How do I possibly do justice in conveying how damn aspirational he is, how merciful, how delightful? I can't, really. He's a force of nature that one must experience for themselves. (And I need to resume my rewatch methinks~)

Runner-Ups

(or the characters who have been spinning in my brain nonstop like rotisserie chickens and absolutely deserve mention)

Ben Jarvis, Cheat

I... I have entire essays I want to write about this guy. I have theories I want to discuss, but as most of them are... I can't. Yet. Maybe soon? I- Anyway. Ben was a huge surprise, and definitely nowhere close to what I was expecting when I finally got around to watching this show. I would be lying to say it wasn't a pleasant surprise, and I absolutely love how Burn was able to do a lot of solo work this series, with a lot of focus on body language and his uncanny knack for killer expressions.

Jacko Argyle, Ordeal By Innocence

This... This beautiful little shit ♡ One of the first Burn movies I actively chose to seek out, my second in his Agatha Christie adaptations, and my first dive into gif making. And Jacko-! Oh, Jacko... You stole my heart then broke it in only a few, few precious moments of screentime and backstory. He haunts the entire film, he haunts me still, and I'm so glad I had the chance to meet him.

Martin, Up There

(Oh look yet another one of my gifs 😅)

Martin is absolutely one of my favourite characters, especially for his absolute growth during the film. He crawls out of his downward spiral, he finds himself again, and ultimately discovers that there can be life after death. He just- He's grumpy, he's beautifully sarcastic, he's depressed, he's loved, and he just- Seriously I love him. Martin feels like a friend who I haven't seen in an age, and it's always a good day to bump into him again.

Reverend Benedict Marley, Lark Rise to Candleford

I almost forgot my favourite clergyman??? D:

Benedict Marley came into my life just to shake my very foundations, send me on an existential journey of self discovery, and waited for me at the end of it all with a soft smile and encouraging words. He only had one episode in the show, but his story was so easily woven and understood, his humility humbled me, and in ways that make me almost afraid to admit aloud- I felt seen in a way that I ever so rarely am. I connected to him; I understand him. He has depths that I could hardly explain in a single paragraph, but I can say that- out of all these characters- my feelings are birthed more out of a very deep respect and admiration.

I can't say this list will stay the same- I'm far from through with Burn's portfolio- but for his on-screen roles, these guys firmly remain top-tier for me. :)

(If you'd like to hear about his voice work instead, please let me know; I could go on for Hours about some of those lads. ♡)

Thanks for the ask Anon, and if you haven't seen any of these yet, I definitely recommend them!

[nerdyqueerr]

THE DAYBREAK AO3 TAG IS ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY ELI/JOSH LEAVE THOSE BOYS THE FUCK ALONE

[guiltyidealist]

I've inexplicably picked up writing again after 9 long years of radio silence, but now with memes. Here's that I guess

~ Credit via link to my post if you reupload ~

[kidsomeday]

I’m crying with him. He deserves this. I think the Oscars are a hollow sham for the most part but this is one of those moments that bring joy to my cold embittered heart.

Ke Huy Quan wins the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for Everything Everywhere All at Once 

[yukimiyum]

the empty threats from liberals in this post-election social media hellscape is gonna drive me absolutely insane actually

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Click, Click, Click

Prompt Day 29: Fairytale | Word Count: 734 | Rating: T | CW: Post-Apocalyptic | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Survival, Just the Two of Us, The World is Bleak, But We're Together

Set in my connected one-shot End of the World AU 'verse, but can be read standalone.

"If I click my heels three times, do you think we'll get to go home?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs a little too loud. He shouldn't. They're hunkered down, hidden out of sight, in an abandoned house.

It's been 813 days. 

At least Eddie thinks so. He's tried to keep track, but there were a few days where he was feverish and barely lucid. 

Eddie knows it's at least been two years. That much he's certain. But he can't ask Steve. Steve won't talk about it. 

Because Steve thinks there's a way to fix this, a way to revert everything back to the way it was, and Eddie knows that's not true. That's a fairytale. Especially after 813-ish days.

"You could at least try," Steve banters back. He's tired, they both are, but he's still got his sense of humor. At least most of the time.

Steve's filthy, not that Eddie isn't, but seeing Steve Harrington with greasy hair hanging in his eyes wasn't something Eddie ever predicted he'd see in his lifetime. Running water is a thing of the past, and they haven't exactly found a safe source of water to bathe with in a while. Everything they find has to go to drinking.

Running water. A luxury he took for granted, even in the worst parts of his childhood. On a long list of things he misses from the real world, running water is near the top. If they ever get back to their version of Kansas from this shitty version of Oz, Uncle Wayne instead of Auntie Em waiting, he's taking the longest, hottest shower in history.

But for now, they're still following this shitty yellow brick road, but it's more as if they are in the book version of Oz, not the story MGM polished to a sanitized shine. No lions, tigers or bears.

That'd be preferable, honestly, after dealing with demogorgons, demodogs and demobats, oh fucking my, indeed. 

Eddie's given up hope that they'll ever find anyone else out here ever again. But at the same time, they can't be the only survivors. That's too implausible. But it sure feels like that now. Steve keeps them moving. Searching. He hasn't given up hope.

And Eddie'd never give up on Steve having hope, so they'll forge ahead. As long as Steve doesn't start hacking off his limbs to become the tinman, well, then they're still ahead, no matter what this world is, or isn't.

"That stove looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel," Eddie comments, and Steve laughs again. There are dishes piled on top of it. So, Eddie thinks someone survived here, at least for a while.

"I'd eat some Hansel or Gretel about now," Steve says, flippantly, and Eddie grins. The world is bad, but it hasn't gotten that bad, which Eddie is grateful for, because he's the only other person around to end up in said stove.

"I'd settle for some of the witch," Eddie banters back, and Steve smiles. They're okay. They're still okay, Steve sitting next to him, clicking that stopwatch he always keeps in his pocket. 

Click, click, click.

The numbers ticked over an hour. And Steve kept trying.

He's reset it so many times since.

Eddie isn't sure he fully believes the tale that goes with it, but Steve does, so he'll never contradict it. Time travel? Eddie had died? And now, instead, everyone else died? Vecna taking over the earth is Steve's fault?

There ain't no way. Eddie will never believe that.

Steve's just cracked a little. Which, understandable. They've been through hell and back.

Click, click, click.

Nothing happens. Nothing ever happens.

Steve puts the stopwatch back in his pocket, buttoning the pocket closed. A nightly ritual that never produces any results. Even still, Steve's determined to keep it safe. Eddie thinks the only thing Steve protects more than the stopwatch is Eddie himself.

"Tell me a story," Steve demands, and lays his head down next to Eddie's on the bunched up duffle bag they are using for a pillow.

It's not much, but it's better than the ground.

Eddie's imagination hasn't truly run wild in a while. Maybe not since before he ever heard the cursed name Vecna, ripped from the game he once loved, and thrust right into the real world. With real consequences.

But he misses telling stories.

So, he'll try. For Steve.

"Once upon a time..."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[virginiaisforvampires]

I finally started reading The Vampire Lestat, and I’m loving it so far, but there’s something I wasn’t prepared for: Nicki and Lestat. They go from being so pure and innocent,it had me giggling and finding their love so tender , to something very bleak, really quickly. I don’t understand how it turned into this, and it makes no sense.

Okay, I haven’t finished yet, but i can’t believe this is the same Nicolas. What happened? Why? I don’t get it.

I feel kind of cheated because everyone talks about how compelling they were, how they had the best love story,etc., but it turned sour so fast. I don’t understand how he could be the same person. Depression? Okay, but the bitterness and jealousy toward someone you loved?

I love tragedy, but this makes no sense to me because he became so mean and bitter, jealous almost immediately when they got in Paris, even when Lestat was doing his best.

I get that Rice wanted drama and tortured souls, but it makes me wonder if Nicki ever really loved Lestat,even back in Auvergne? she should had extended their ''good days'' because now, i think I won't feel anything when Lestat lose him, because he never had him to begin,it will pain me to read about his agony but a part of me is sick of Nicki.

Are we supposed to have pity for Nicki?

You are welcome to search the "nicolas de lenfent" tag on my blog to read all my numerous posts about Lestat and Nicki.

In short, Nicki and Lestat have been rewritten into a fanon version of the relationship, because for some inexplicable reason, folks can't handle the fact Nicki was yet another abuser in the long list of people who used and abused Lestat. Lestat loved Nicki and would've done anything for him, but Nicki was always a walking red flag, was always jealous of Lestat, tried to fundamentally alter the core of Lestat, verbally and emotionally abused Lestat, and finally revealed his true colors when he ranted to Lestat that he'd always been rooting for him to fail and telling Lestat that Magnus raping him into vampirism was yet another triumph Lestat didn't deserve, whereas Nicki felt he was the one who deserved all these triumphs. It was always a dark and fucked up mess and for the life of me, I will never understand why it's now being rewritten into something it never was and why Nicki is being rewritten into something he never was.

[jtownraindancer]

A Careful Study

[groovebunker]

i’m gonna be obnoxious about this and people are just going to have to be cool about that. yes? good.

happy birthday to what would you do (if they ever found us out) (affectionately known as wwyd)!!! a year ago today, i posted chapter one and (i’m not being dramatic here) i think it changed my life?

little backstory: i’m a dyke with eyes and a type, so when i watched fran drescher making impassioned speeches about labour rights, i was both smitten and reminded that i’d been meaning to watch the nanny. i was also (mostly unbeknownst to me) about as mentally ill as i’ve ever been in my life. i was halfway through a phd which i loved but it was making me so, so unwell. anyway, i started watching the nanny as some kind of escapism and one night, i was like…has anyone thought of fran and cc kissing on the mouth? and they had (obviously) and so i started thinking about that and how whine cellar is a deeply disappointing episode in so many ways and then i was like ‘i can fix that! with a one shot!’.

fast fwd to april 2024. i’m in my favourite city in the world. i’m posting the 11th chapter of that one shot far too late at night (sorry sara). it’s ended up about 85k words long. i’m no longer a phd candidate. i’m significantly less mentally ill. and i’ve spent the last 8 or so months being held by a group of people i would never have met if i had never started writing again.

i didn't quit my phd to write fan fiction, obviously. but writing fic helped me realise how unhappy i was because it was something that gave me joy in a time that was so fucking bleak. i don't really like thinking about it too much but it wasn't great. and then i had this lifeline. these two idiots (affectionate) falling in love with one another, not only in wwyd but all the other fics i was writing. and talking about with people who were commenting and finding me on tumblr. and then, eventually, we weren't just talking about fran and cc, we were talking about our lives! because we were friends!

people will tell you before you start a phd that it's a lonely experience. i was the only history student in my cohort. i only met one of my supervisors in person at his leaving drinks. i have two friends i met at my uni, one of whom was the first person i told that i had to quit. i had other friends and an incredible, loving, patient partner, and they were amazing. but still, it was lonely.

and then i just fucking wasn't.

january ‘24, the squad evolved from being my stupid tumblr tag to being the most chaotic group chat i have ever been part of (until nic got us nicely organised). a week or so later, i quit the phd. and i told a bunch of people i’d never met that i was dropping out of grad school and they were so fucking kind. i will never forget that. the squad, in all its iterations, will have my heart for my whole life. i will not rest until i have annoyed you all in person. my dream is winning the lottery and flying you all to a villa in spain for a week so i can cook you dinner (and cass can make bread) every night and drink wine and splash about in the sun (or in sara’s case, hide in the shade and probably yell at us to put sun screen on). when i say i love you, i mean it so wholly and truly.

anyway, back to wwyd. it’s not my first fic. i’ve been writing on and off for 15 long, long years. but i hadn't written a ton for a while (other than my aloto fic bc gretson my beloved) and i really kind of expected to get a couple of comments and a few kudos. i just had a story that wanted to get out so i published the first few chapters in really rather quick succession (i’m sorry to anyone who reads my stuff, my adhd is too bad for a posting schedule) and people…loved it? like, really loved it. which was so nice because i’m gonna be honest, there was not an adoring audience for my academic work (perils of being a genocide scholar). and i know it's become quite a few people’s comfort fic. i know people have reread it, more than once in some cases, which feels wild. people have left the most wonderful comments, said the kindest things, drawn gorgeous art, made a fanmix (which is fucking amazing), followed along on this journey which i did not expect them to do.

i don't have favourite children (b&w fans, i promise you, the next chapter is in the works) but if i did, wwyd might be one. sure, she's my difficult eldest child. but she got me into a fandom for the first time in years, she’s given me friends i know I will hold onto for the rest of my life, she reminded me how much fun writing can be. and she’s spawned so much more because she made me so much more confident as a writer.

so i don't think i’m being overdramatic when i say it changed my life. if you’d told me all of this when i hit publish on chapter one last year, i would have told you to fuck off. relatively vehemently. but i’m better now. and i’m so fucking grateful for this fic for being part of what gave me that.

anyway, thanks for letting me be a bit self indulgent - promise you don't have to sit through this ever again (maybe for won't you when i finally get it done. i’m sorry. i’m verbose). and once again, to everyone who has read wwyd, given it kudos, commented, reblogged a chapter on tumblr, all of it, my eternal thanks. i couldn't have done it without you.

finally, because i cannot say it enough, to the squad, you have my whole heart. it’s actually mad to me that this time last year, i had no idea who any of you were. your stamp on the last few chapters of wwyd is indelible. your stamp on my life is somehow more permanent than that. thank you. ilsym 🫶🏻

[poppitron360]

I have a big big deadline coming up at work, and it’s been really stressing me out. However, instead of focusing on that (which is what I should be doing), my stupid, dopamine-chasing brain has been thinking about nothing but this singular piece of Valgrace fanfiction I’ve been working on for the past two weeks.

A lot of you requested to be tagged in it once it was finished so you could read it, based on this post that I made about it. So anyway:

@moonssong @lavenderfairiez @huntingrays @hazellevessque @onion-dishwasher @the-aro-ace-of-spades

Here you are. Go nuts.

Concept: Leo goes back to Texas after the War to get some closure on that miserable chapter of his life. Jason decides to tag along, but little does he know that this trip’s real purpose is to do more than just tie up loose ends…

CWs: Swearing, blood, lack of smut (they are teenagers)

I tried to write it so that it could be interpreted as a friendship thing if that’s what you want (although there is a lot of Staring Deeply Into Leo’s Sad Brown Eyes, and Holding Him Tightly In Jason’s Big Strong Arms). But no actual kissing or anything. I think “wanting to be there for someone” is a universal thing, so I tried to make it up to interpretation.

This is also FUCKING LONG (as this has been my main form of procrastination for the past two weeks), so you have been warned. Final Word Count: 5,934!

Valgrace Fanfiction: “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Not sure on the name tbh. Lmk if you have any better ideas.

Leo took the window seat and Jason sat next to him. Jason watched as Leo leaned his head against the window of the bus and closed his eyes, breathing softly, his curly hair vibrating against the glass. There was no cheeky grin on his face. No playful twinkle in his eye.

“You look tired,” Jason mused.

Leo nodded, not opening his eyes, and breathed out almost inaudibly through his parted lips, the vapour from his breath making a circle of mist on the window. He looked utterly dejected. Jason examined his best friend’s features, taking in his sunken cheekbones, his pointed nose, his dirt-covered face. Only now did he realise how thin Leo was- his clothes hung loosely around his body, cinched in by his tool-belt and suspenders, but even those seemed disproportionately loose on his tiny frame. His arms and hands were bony, and covered in scars. Jason’s body was pushed up against Leo’s on the cramped bus seat, and he could feel the bones of Leo’s emaciated ribcage pressing against his side. He thought he truly saw for the first time that kid who had run away so many times, who grew up on the streets. He wondered how Leo had survived all those years alone- demigods weren’t supposed to make it on their own past thirteen, but Leo had been completely by himself for seven years. Jason couldn’t think what that might’ve done to him. What he’d been through. Leo never talked about the foster homes much, but Jason got the sense they had been rough- he had mentioned once about sleeping in a sewer. Jason studied the scars on Leo’s arm. He had scars too, they all did. But Leo’s seemed to tell a different story, more bleak and depressing, like he hadn’t always been able to fight back. There was nothing funny about that, Jason decided.

He reached out, and brushed a strand of curly hair away from Leo’s face. He didn’t flinch at the touch, and Jason wondered if he might be asleep, but soon he felt Leo’s hands slip into his, his bony fingers were gentle and warm to the touch- as if to say “I’m here. I’m okay.” His skin was rough and calloused, but Jason didn’t mind their lack of softness. He cupped Leo’s tiny hand in both of his own, as if to respond “I’m here too. It’s okay.” Leo’s fingers were completely covered by Jason’s big palms, and they wriggled against his skin, tapping out a strange arhymic pattern. Jason figured it was morse code, but he couldn’t translate it. He recognised the pattern as the same one Leo was always tapping out with those restless fingers.

“I can feel everything,” Leo whispered, weakly. His eyes were still closed. His voice was low and hollow and raspy, like it had lost all of its brightness. Something about the way he spoke had changed too- his vowels dragged out longer, his consonants became softer, more rounded. Jason could hear the warm tones of a hispanic accent seeping through, like Leo was too tired to hide it anymore.

“What?”

“The bus. I can feel all the machinery beneath us- the axels and pistons and gears and motors- it’s clouding my brain. No way I can sleep,” He explained.

Jason listened to the low hum of the bus engine as it bounced along the winding road. He imagined it must be a hundred times louder for Leo, who could sense every single moving part. He squeezed his hand sympathetically. No wonder Leo had trouble focusing all the time.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jason asked.

Leo shook his head, his head still resting against the glass.

“Just promise me we’ll find a place to stop and rest soon,” He said.

Jason rubbed a thumb over the back of Leo’s warm hand. “Okay,” He assured him.

Leo nodded, softly.

They sat in silence, Jason watching Leo breathing. His brow would furrow with soft despair when the bus sped up, like the movement caused him pain. His breathing was shallow and weak, and Jason could feel his lungs expanding and retracting underneath his skin. Eventually, Jason rested his head on Leo’s bony shoulder and closed his eyes. His shoulder-blade was digging into his cheek uncomfortably, and the dirt and grime on Leo’s face was rubbing into his hair, but he didn’t mind. He breathed in Leo’s warm smell. He smelled like smoke. Woodsmoke, like a campfire. He smelled like the metallic aroma of rust and motor oil. It wasn’t usually a pleasant smell, but it smelled good on Leo. Just like the hardness of his rough skin felt good brushing gently against Jason’s palms. Everything about Leo was coarse and rough and dirtied, reflecting the gritty hardness of the forges and workshops he’d grown up with and surrounded himself with. Despite being so small and weak, Leo was by no means soft or delicate. Jason thought again about that little boy, skin and bones, growing up orphaned and alone. While Camp Jupiter had never really been caring or familial, it had still been there for Jason when he needed it. He’d always had safety, food, friends, a place to stay. Leo had had none of that. Suddenly, Jason felt a surge of protectiveness. He wasn’t gonna let Leo go through that anymore. He was gonna make sure Leo was safe, that he had food, friends, a place to stay. Yeah, you’re doing great at that so far, Jason thought, but he pushed the feeling down.

He leaned in closer to Leo and whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Jason…” Leo whispered in return, “You know you didn’t have to come with me.”

“We’ve had this conversation, Leo. You shouldn’t have to be here alone.”

Leo tilted his head so that it rested against Jason’s instead of the window. He was silent for a long time.

“I… I’m glad you’re here, Jason.”

He really did sound tired.

Jason absent-mindedly traced the lines of Leo’s palm with his fingers. He heard the tires hiss and he sat up. They had arrived.

Huston bus station was about as grimy as Leo’s workshop, but with none of the charm or magic of it. It had low plasticky ceilings stained nicotine yellow, the grout in the cracks of the tile floor were peeling and cracking. Jason did his best to avoid a mysterious stain that looked suspiciously like blood, as Leo led him through the jostling crowd, pulling him by the arm. Once they were out onto the street, Jason nudged Leo’s shoulder to tell him to stop.

“Let’s find a hotel. I promised you we’d get you a place to sleep. We’ll talk game plan in the morning.”

It was hard to tell with the hot Texas sun beating down on them, but it was getting late.

“Yeah… I guess taking a sightseeing tour of the locations of the most traumatic moments of my life can wait until morning.”

The next morning came, heralded by the autumn sun.

“Can I just get these, please?” Leo handed the gum and the 6-pack of water to the man behind the kiosk. The tiny newsagent’s shop was empty except for them and a guy in the corner, looking at the chips.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” The shopkeeper asked.

Leo looked around nervously, “No, I don’t think so, partner. You might be thinking of that guy in the movies- Antonio Banderas. I’m told we look a lot alike.”

“No…” the guy said, squinting at Leo, “Wait- you’re that Valdez boy!”

A look panic flashed across Leo’s face, but he tried to keep his cool.

“Nah, man, you’ve got the wrong guy-“

“No- it is you. Boy, you’ve got guts showing your face here again. The police came ‘round asking questions ‘bout you, y’know? From what I heard, you burned down your mom’s machine shop and ran away. I’ve got half a mind to call the cops on you right now-”

He reached for the phone.

“No! Look- I don’t want any trouble, okay? Can we just buy these and go?” Leo’s eyes were pleading and desperate.

“You’ve got three seconds to leave my shop before I call the cops.”

“But-“

“GET OUTTA HERE, FREAK!!”

Leo ran. Jason ran after him, but not before turning and flashing his best raised-by-wolves death-glare at the shopkeeper.

“Hey-“ Jason said, finally catching up with him three streets away. Leo was a fast runner. “You okay? What that guy said-“

“It’s fine!” Leo said, his voice high-pitched and a little hysterical, “No big deal, just… no gum. That’s fine.”

Jason put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. He made his voice low and gentle, “Leo… this must be really hard for you. Talk to me.”

Leo shook his head, “We have to keep moving. Aunt Rosa’s house is this way.”

Leo led Jason through the busy Huston streets, twisting down roads and sidewalks. Suddenly, he turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks so fast, Jason nearly ran into him. He was staring at a large brick building on the corner of the street. The sign above it read “Bookstore”.

“They… they rebuilt it…” Leo said.

Jason realised what he was talking about.

“This was your mom’s machine shop?”

“I c-can’t believe they rebuilt it…”

“Leo… it did burn down nine years ago,” Jason told him. Then, realising that that was probably not the best thing to say, he added, “I know this is hard. Do you need a minute?” After all, Leo had grown up here. Seeing his childhood home not only burned to the ground but rebuilt, totally erasing those moments, must’ve been torture.

Jason squeezed Leo’s arm comfortingly. Leo nodded, “Yeah… thanks,” he whispered.

Jason kept a respectful distance as Leo walked up to the building. He watched as Leo pressed his forehead against the bricks, his calloused hands gently caressing the stone, as if trying to remember the way it used to feel. He saw his fingers tapping out that message he always tapped. He saw Leo’s mouth moving, whispering silently to the building. After a while, he began to approach Leo, but then hesitated when he saw the tears in his eyes. But now, he was close enough to hear him. Leo was humming, softly. A sweet, lilting melody. He hadn’t noticed Jason was standing there. Jason watched as Leo drew a shaky breath, and began to sing.

Jason didn’t understand the words- they were in Spanish- but he could hear the roundness of the syllables, the way the vowels and consonants danced up and down, in and out. He couldn’t believe how right it felt, hearing Leo speak the language. Leo had a weird way of talking- the sentences would stop and start in jagged spikes, gliding rapidly right over full stops, and pausing right in the middle, like his brain was moving a thousand times faster than his mouth. His words felt odd and out of place. But now… Jason realised this was the first time he’d heard Leo speak Spanish at length- more than just a few phrases, under-the-breath insults, and frustrated cursing. He felt bad, eavesdropping on him when he clearly was never comfortable enough to speak the language around Jason, but man… it was beautiful. The sound of his voice was enthralling- tendrils of words wrapping around his chest and arms, softly caressing his skin. Jason felt warm inside, like he had just drunk a cup of hot chocolate on a freezing winter’s day. He wondered if Leo’s song had some sort of fire magic in it, filling him with comfort and homeliness, and a memory came back to him. Him and Thalia sitting at the hearth on Christmas day, watching the flames dance as they toasted marshmallows. The feeling didn’t flicker and die when Leo finished his song, either. Jason stood there, stunned as the last few notes hung in the air.

“Woah, Leo…”

Leo tuned, startled, snapping out of his trance. Something flashed in his eyes- Panic? Fear? Jason felt guilty. Leo was having a private moment, and he was intruding.

“H-how long have you been standing there?“ He asked.

“Just a few minutes. Leo, that was beautiful. Where did you learn-“

“A lullaby. My mom used to…” he trailed off, and looked at the building. Then, wiping his tear-stained eyes with the back of his sleeve, he said, “Look, can we go now?”

They stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door of Leo’s Aunt’s apartment. Jason rubbed Leo’s back, reassuringly.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked.

“You keep asking me that!” Leo complained, but his eyes shifted nervously and his fingers restlessly picked at the skin around his thumb. Jason grabbed his hand and squeezed it- “I’m here.”

Leo’s big brown eyes looked into Jason’s. He looked grateful for his company. Then, he let his hand drop as he walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

An old woman answered. She had Leo’s curly hair and dark skin, but unlike Leo, she was ugly. In a sort of cinderella-ugly-step-sister way. Her nose was hooked and pointed. Her mouth snarled and her eyes squinted into wrinkled crows-feet.

“Uhh… hey, Aunt Rosa,” Leo said, wringing his hands, nervously.

“Well, look who decided to come back,” the old witch sneered, “you’ve got guts, boy.”

She spat out the word “boy” like Leo was some sort of vermin. Jason felt anger bubbling up inside of him.

“Look, I just wanna talk. Maybe apologise? I’ve done a lot of thinking-“

Leo was cut short when the old crone started howling with laughter.

“What makes you think I’d give any attention to you, after what you did, Diablo?”

Leo took a step back, fear and hurt flashing in his busy eyes.

“It- it was an accident-“

Jason had been keeping his distance up until now, but he moved closer to Leo and put a hand on his back, staring at the woman defensively.

“Look, lady, Leo and I… we came all this way so that he could do what he needed to do to make things right. Do you know how much guts it takes to want to apologise and make amends, especially after how you treated him? Leo’s doing something brave here, and you should at least hear him out, you owe your sister that much.”

The old lady scoffed, and barked something to Leo accusatorially in Spanish. Leo backed away again, fearfully, mumbling a response. Jason only became angrier. He hated seeing Leo like this.

“Leo doesn’t owe you any sort apology whatsoever,” Jason growled, “And yet he’s still offering one. Even though it wasn’t his fault. Even though you treated him like shit!”

“Hey, Jason, maybe we should go-“

Jason looked in Leo’s eyes and mouthed, “Do you want to leave?”

Leo nodded, “Jason, please…” he whispered.

Jason hated seeing Leo so afraid and helpless. With one last glowering look at Leo’s Aunt Rosa, he guided Leo away.

“Freak! Diablo!” Rosa called, “Worthless, Satan Spawn, good-for-nothing-“

She didn’t have time to finish the insult. With one swift motion, Jason spun around and punched her square in her ugly face. She crumpled to the floor, moaning.

“Leo Valdez is fucking amazing,” Jason said, standing over the old woman, “You are fucking blessed to even be associated with him. You have no right to treat him the way you did. You know that it wasn’t his fault what happened, but you made him think that it was. You’re a fucking disgrace. Now, I wholeheartedly think that Leo should not apologise to you. But if that’s what he needs to do,” he looked over at Leo, and smiled, then looked back at the old crone, “then you’re gonna fucking hear him out, okay?”

She nodded, still rolling on the floor. Leo walked over and stood by Jason. He didn’t help her up.

“Aunt Rosa,” he said, and then paused for a moment, looking at Jason, and then looking back down, “Fuck you.”

Jason patted him on the back, and they walked away together. As they got further and further down the street, Leo stated sobbing.

“Oh, hey, no, it’s okay…” Jason assured him, “Sorry, did I-“

“You were great,” Leo said, “It’s just…”

He hugged his shoulders. Jason walked in front of him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

“Hey. Look at me. Don’t let what she said get to you, okay? She’s not worth it.”

Leo chucked, but the laugh turned into more sobs.

“Hey… hey… that was really brave, what you did.”

Leo dug his fingernails into his arm. He was hugging his right forearm close to his chest, hiding his scars from Jason that he knew for a fact were there. Jason wondered once again where they had come from. What their story was. But he didn’t dare ask. He pulled Leo into a hug, right there in the middle of that busy Texas street. Fragile, and shaking, Leo was a mess. But Jason held him, and stroked his hair, and whispered soft words of comfort.

“I don’t know what she has against Spawns of Satan,” Leo said eventually, “Nico and Hazel are lovely. It’s not really an insult.”

And there it was. The jokes. Leo took a deep breath, and Jason could practically see the mask come up. It had slipped away for those few moments while Jason held him, and he had caught a glimpse of that vulnerable, scared little eight-year-old boy. But now his defences were up. He had let Jason in for just a second, and Jason wanted so desperately to be let in again. To get to know the real Leo. To be able to comfort that little boy, maybe even help heal him. Bandage his bleeding scars.

“Next stop,” Leo said, “Mom.”

The cemetery was beautiful. Peach trees lined the gravel pathway, rustling in the late autumn breeze. Jason watched Leo closely as he walked down the path, scanning for the gravestone he wanted. Leo’s dark brown eyes caught the low light of the evening street-lamps. They reminded Jason those bugs stuck in amber you could buy in museum gift shops. He felt in danger of becoming like one of them, perpetually lost in that deep liquid gold. He could swim in them for eternity, preserved in beautiful stillness for all time. If those dark irises dared lock themselves on his, they would pull him under, and he would be trapped forever in perfect torture.

Leo turned a corner and trekked down a well-trodden path in the grass. He wove through the headstones until he found the one he needed.

Jason stood behind him, tapping his own fingers nervously on the back of his other hand. He realised he was copying Leo’s rhythm- he’d committed it to memory without even learning what it meant.

He watched as Leo knelt down by the headstone. The engraving on the headstone read “Esperanza Valdez, beloved daughter, wonderful sister. You will be missed.”

Jason noticed with another surge of anger that the epitaph did not say “mother”. Leo had been cast out by his family, and the hard work and sacrifices his mom had made to raise him weren’t even recognised on her gravestone.

“H-hey, mom…” Leo said, trying to keep a cheery note in his voice, “How’s it going? Good? Good.”

He kept talking to the stone, commenting on small things like the weather, how his day had been, what he had for breakfast (he’d lied and said oatmeal, but Jason knew he hadn’t eaten anything that morning). Jason could see he was desperately trying to keep it together, not wanting to let his walls down again. Eventually, Leo turned to him.

“Hey man, there’s something I gotta do. Alone. Can you just maybe… I dunno… wander ‘round the shops for a bit? I’ll come find you once I’m done.”

His eyes were dull and unsaturated in the cold light of the evening. He looked at the headstone with something other than just grief- purpose. But not the twinkle Jason saw when he had an idea for an invention. A sort of quiet resolve. It was unsettling.

Jason didn’t want to leave Leo on his own. He moved closer, reached up, and touched Leo’s face. He took off Leo’s mask, and looked at the broken boy behind it.

“I… I…”

Suddenly, Leo crumpled to the ground, sobbing. Jason caught him. He held Leo’s trembling arms in his firm grip. The underside of his arms were covered in a patchwork of faded scars. Jason caught another glimpse of that boy- the runaway, helpless and alone. He imagined those scars freshly bleeding, no-one there to clean the cut or dry his tears. It was that boy that stood in front of him. That boy that crumpled to the floor sobbing at Jason’s feet, as he held his arms tightly in his strong grip.

“I’m sorry…” The boy said, his voice small.

Jason crouched down, letting go of one of the arms and putting a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up. His big brown eyes were watery with tears, filled with sorrow and remorse and fear.

“The… the reason you came here,” Jason said, slowly, “Was not to visit your Aunt Rosa, was it?”

Leo didn’t meet his gaze. Jason’s hand dropped from holding his chin, and Leo looked down at his hands, one still clutched in Jason’s own.

“A ritual…” Leo said, “I found it in a book at Camp… I… I could fix my mistakes.”

“By bringing your mom back?” Jason guessed.

Leo shook his head, “My mom’s gone. Nothing’s gonna bring her back… but I’d be able to get rid of the thing that killed her.”

Jason grabbed Leo’s shaking shoulders, his grip firm, yet gentle. He touched Leo’s cheek with his other hand, his fingers lightly grazing his skin, hurriedly trying to commit it to memory.

“Leo, you mean you’re gonna-“

Leo shook his head. “Not that. My powers,” he explained, “If I give them up, I might be able to reconcile for what I did. I could be at peace.”

He looked up at Jason, his eyes so full of anguish and hurt it made Jason’s heart break.

“I never lied to you, Jason. I did come here to get closure.”

Jason held Leo’s tiny, shaking body against his.

“Leo, it wasn’t your fault, okay? You have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

“I lost everything in that fire, Jason. These powers have cost me so much.”

“Leo, please believe me,” Jason begged, “You don’t deserve to hurt yourself like this.”

Leo didn’t respond. Jason realised that he was afraid. Afraid of himself. Afraid of hurting others. Afraid of his power, despite all the good it had done, despite all the times it had saved Jason’s life. Leo only ever saw all the bad it did. Why couldn’t Leo would see himself the way Jason saw him- brave and good and kind? Then he remembered Aunt Rosa- the way Leo had backed away from her, afraid and guilty. The way she had reduced Leo to a small-voiced child with just a fierce glance. Jason couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like having her as your only family. He figured the foster homes hadn’t been much kinder to Leo, judging by the assortment of scars across his skin. And the shopkeeper- how Leo’s eyes were desperate and panicked, how he had ran from that place, how the man had yelled at him so fiercely. If Leo’s powers were responsible for doing all that to him, Jason didn’t blame him for wanting to get rid of them. Jason did want to get rid of them- nothing that hurts Leo like that should ever be allowed to continue existing.

He hugged Leo tighter.

“You know I can’t let you do this, Leo. It’s dangerous. I mean, if it’s never been done before… what kind of side effects might it have? Will it just get rid of your fire or your other abilities as well?”

Leo shook his head, “I’m still a son of Hephaestus. That would never change. But the gift… curse… whatever he gave me- that’ll be gone. It’s served its purpose now, so The Fates will allow it. But I can be a normal demigod.”

Jason was pretty sure the words “normal” and “demigod” had never been used side-by-side before.

“Leo, these powers have saved my life so many times. All of our lives. You can’t just… by letting them go, you’d be erasing all the good that you’ve done. Please, try to see my point of view. I don’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“It’s my decision, Jason. My whole life, I’ve wished I’d never gotten these powers. I don’t care if I can use them to help people- I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else,” Leo looked down at the gravestone.

Jason remembered the warmth Leo had filled him with when he had sung his mom’s lullaby. The joy and happiness he had felt. That wasn’t bad. That couldn’t have been bad.

“Leo, you can’t do this.”

“You’re not changing my mind, Jason.”

And Jason knew he was right.

“If this is what you need to do, Leo…” he whispered, softly, “Then I’m not gonna stop you. But there are better ways. You don’t have to do this.”

“But I do. You don’t understand, Jason. You never knew your mom. I had something, and then it was taken away as a result of my own mistakes. That’s worse than never having had it in the first place.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Jason snapped, “Leo, I get it. You’re hurting. And I want to be here for you. I really do. This whole trip-“

He stopped and took a deep breath.

“This whole trip, I’ve been trying to make myself a safe space for you to open up to me. For you to let down those walls, let me in, let me see you,” he took Leo’s hands in his, “Because what I want more than anything right now, is to see you, Leo. The real you. Behind the jokes, and the smiles, and the “everything is fines”. I can’t bear to stand by and watch you do something I know you’d regret, but if this is what it takes to gain your trust, then I’d do it. For you.”

He knew this wasn’t right. He knew Leo was making a really bad choice, and Jason saw no future where he didn’t live to regret it. Leo would not be at peace. He would still be weak and afraid, just now he would also be powerless. But he knew he couldn’t stop Leo. And he couldn’t let him do it alone, he just couldn’t. Leo had been alone his whole life, and Jason couldn’t abandon him when Leo needed him most. And Jason wanted to be with him. Be there for him. He wanted to see that little boy again. But it shouldn’t be about what he wanted. Deep down, Jason knew he was being selfish.

With shaking hands, Leo reached into his backpack and brought out a thick leather-bound book. Jason recognised it as the kind of thing they kept on the bookshelf of the Athena cabin. Leo opened the tome, and flicked through until he found the page he needed. His dark eyes scanned the instructions, then he reached into his backpack again and brought out a knife and a vial of glowing red liquid, and set them both on the grass in front of him.

“Leo…” Jason said, looking at the knife.

“It needs my blood for the ritual, Jason,” Leo said.

“So, you’re really going through with this?” Jason asked, not meeting those eyes of amber.

Leo didn’t answer right away, just studied the book, knife, and vial in front of him. He studied his mother’s grave, tracing the name “Esperanza” with his eyes.

“I… I don’t…”

Jason put a hand on Leo’s cheek, forcing him to look his way.

“Leo, it’s okay.”

Leo tried to hold the glass vial steady to drink it, but his hands were shaking too much. Jason gently took it from his grasp, and held it up to Leo’s lips. This is a bad idea, he thought, but it’s for Leo. It’s what he wants. Jason poured the weird red stuff into Leo’s mouth, and Leo did his best to swallow it down. He shivered.

Leo sat back on his knees, facing the gravestone. He took the knife in shaking hands and dragged it across his palm. He whimpered in pain as the blood seeped out of the cut and down his wrists. He collapsed on the ground, his hands out in front of him, digging his fingers into the dirt. Jason watched as, sobbing, Leo read aloud the words from the book. Jason didn’t understand Ancient Greek, but he got the gist. This was some serious magic going on. Leo screwed his eyes up in painful concentration, repeating the chant over and over. His fingers dug deeper into the ground, and his hands caught fire. Jason took a step back as the fire grew. Leo cried out.

But then, the fire sank back to a flicker, then it was gone. Where it had been, tendrils of red, orange, and gold light were coming from Leo’s fingers like tree roots, spreading into the dirt. They wrapped around his mother’s headstone- making it look overgrown with flame-coloured vines. The light glowed brighter and brighter, and as it did, Leo’s breathing got shallower and weaker. Eventually, the light became so blinding white that Jason had to avert his eyes. Then he heard a grunt, and the sound of a body hitting the soft dirt. Jason turned and saw Leo lying on the ground, shivering. He ran over and scooped him up in his arms. Leo’s skin was cold to the touch- colder than Jason had ever felt on Leo before. His cut hand was stained with grass and mud.

“Leo!” Jason called.

He didn’t answer. He was unconscious. Leo inhaled, shakily, and his breath was sharp and painful. Jason could only hold him.

Eventually, Leo opened his eyes.

“J-Jason?” He said, weakly.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked.

“Are… are people this cold usually?”

Jason laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He hugged Leo tighter.

“Did it work?” Jason asked, after a minute.

Leo shakily got to his feet. Jason kept a hand on his waist to steady him. Leo held out his hand, and closed his eyes in concentration. Nothing happened.

“It worked,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. Jason realised that Leo didn’t want to lose the powers either, but was doing it because he thought it was for the best.

Leo fished a cigarette lighter out of his tool belt. He flicked on the flame, and held it underneath his palm. Jason grabbed Leo’s wrist and yanked it away from the fire.

“Careful,” Jason said, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’d prefer to find out if I’m still fireproof or not now, rather than in a life-or-death situation,” Leo reasoned. He moved to put the lighter under his hand again. Jason didn’t stop him, but he wasn’t happy about it. Leo gasped in pain as the flame blistered his skin. He yelped and dropped the lighter. Luckily, the flame went out before it hit the grass. Leo nursed his burned hand.

“Ouch,” he said, “That… that was…”

Jason knew what Leo must’ve been feeling. He had never been burned before. He had gotten a taste for the first time of how his mom must’ve felt in her final moments. That tiny burn on his hand adding to the many, many scars.

Leo was shivering. “Seriously, why is it so cold?” He said. Jason wrapped his arms around him, still getting used to Leo’s newfound lack of radiator-ness. For once, Leo had to depend on Jason for warmth. Only now, did it occur to Jason the gravity of what they’d done. Leo would never summon another fireball to save Jason from certain death. Jason would never roast a marshmallow over his best friend’s head again. He no longer had an excuse to cuddle up next to him on cold winter nights (not that he wanted to cuddle Leo for any reason other than for warmth). Jason would never watch in awe as Leo stoked the forges with his bare hands. Leo was normal now, but was normal necessarily better? Jason had never thought so, but then again, he had always been revered- held aloft on a golden shield, praised as a leader- for the abilities he had inherited.

Jason knew about the bullying at Camp. After Leo had revealed his powers to Cabin 9, the rumours had spread like, well, fire. His siblings had been supportive, but the other cabins not as much. Jason knew Leo hated the looks he’d get at mealtimes, so much that he often hid in Bunker 9 to work on the Argo II. He’d get nasty comments, people calling him a freak and an arsonist, and he’d tried to downplay how much it had affected him, but Jason knew. The worst were the fights. Leo just curled up on the ground and lay there while the other campers pummelled him. Jason had begged him to fight back, he knew Leo could hold his own, but Leo had just looked down sadly, and said, “I can’t fight back. I don’t want to let myself go. I don’t wish the fate of my mother on anyone, even those fuckers.”

No. Normal was better for Leo. Safer.

“Let’s go,” Leo said.

“Back to the hotel?”

“No. Bus station. I’ve got what I came for now. I don’t ever wanna see this place again.”

He turned to the gravestone, and traced his mother’s name with his fingers, ‘Bye, Mom.”

Leo took the window seat on the bus ride back to camp. He did not rest his head on Jason’s. He did not hold his hand. He just sat, looking sadly out the window as the entire state of Texas passed by them.

“Can I ask you something?” Jason said.

“You just did,” Leo replied.

“Why Huston? I mean, I thought you told yourself you’d never go back there.”

“The ritual required a place that was meaningful to the person performing it.”

He didn’t offer any other explanation, and Jason decided not to push it.

“Jason… can you not tell the others what happened here? They’d freak. I just… I can’t deal with having to explain my choices to them. Not right now.”

Jason hesitated for a moment, but then said, “Of course, Leo.”

Leo still wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“It’s funny…” Jason said, “We started this chapter of our lives on a bus. We’re ending it on a bus…”

Leo began to cry.

“Oh… oh no, sorry, Leo, I didn’t-“

Leo hid his face in his hands. Jason tried to touch his shoulder, but Leo shrugged him off. They stayed like that- Jason helpless as Leo sobbed.

Jason had tried to get closer to Leo. He had tried to see through that mask. He had hoped that letting Leo do what he needed to do might make Leo let him in. But Leo still pushed him away. He might always push him away. Leo rubbed his eyes with the heal of his hand, and resumed looking out the window.

And a little part of Jason died inside.

[serasarascreams]

Might as well add more thoughts into the mix. I was going to do it in the tags of the last post but it felt long enough. The last set of tags was a perspective I don't think I've seen yet, but then again I haven't been here too long. I think they're right in idea that the theme of responsibility doesn't just extend to Curly and Jimmy and that the game itself is a showcase of how all the little things add up and create the bigger issues alongside the certain major steps that were taken. They (aka @son-of-crows-and-rats) put it in much better terms than I did.

I was so focused on the main plot of the game a lot of other things went over my head, and while some things hit me later I'm sure there are more things like the person (and multiple others) pointed out that I'll catch here or again have it hit me later. Fuck Jimmy is the initial reaction I had at the end of the game, screaming disappointment in Curly came next, and the bleakness and awfulness of the events continue to seep through whenever I think about it.

I'm also very much on board with the statement that Curly did not deserve what happened to him and it's kinda messed up to say. Him getting deep fried, for lack of a better term, is another major consequence of him and Jimmy's actions (or inaction in Curly's case) while Anya is another. It's just a consequence that effects him directly now and I think that's a parallel to the way Anya was directly affected by Curly and Jimmy's actions. Neither Anya or Curly deserved the pain inflicted upon them, deserved to be forced to continue to live with it and all the suffering that followed, or deserved to have their autonomy ripped away from them.

Curly is not a trash human being, but I don't think I can call him a good man either. Good natured maybe, but not the best guy. The painful irony of his situation hits harder after the final conversation with Anya. His eye is always open, it's too painful to move, he can't speak. He can only watch and listen. There's no way for him to take responsibility anymore even if he desperately wants to. I think what's worse for him is that he got to live after seeing the monster beneath the skin of his friend destroy everyone and everything around him. I saw someone else say that when he froze the day of the crash it was a moment of "you were everything I feared you were" and I think that just adds an extra layer of awful to it. Curly could have been better, and if he gets rescued and lives, I like to think he will be. But I wonder if in the back of his mind it'll always eat at him that it wasn't when it mattered.

Sorry, that this partially ended up turning into a Curly post. It's just that he seems to be talked about the most. That's fair. He, Anya, and Jimmy are the ones who push the initial topic of discussion to the surface because it's there front an center.

I'll probably have more to say the more realizations dawn and the more I scroll through the tag. This is the first game in a long time that made me cry and the only horror game to really mess me up. Funny enough, it's because Curly scares me more than Jimmy.

I love this game and all the infuriating and saddening elements within and around it. I love and hate how human all these characters are. If Wrong Organ ever makes another game in the future, I'll be running to check it out.

[yukimiyum]

the worst part and the part i’m drowning in is he won everything. he won popular and electoral. it was never about jill stein or protest voting or abstaining or caring about g3nocide or women or queer people or ab0rtion rights. none of it would have fucking mattered because he would have won anyway because white cishet women sold out against their sisters rather than vote for another fucking woman. none of it would have mattered because this country cares more about pressing their boots on some poor sod’s neck to get ahead.

this country has bred selfish, bigoted, misogynistic, disgusting pigs and we are going to have to eat the same slop as them.

[khanger]

@rhubarbspring thank you for tagging me. i made a new post since it's started to get long. Oh, I have svaha on my watching list, and I will try to get to it soon 😊

2 horror movies

When evil lurk and antenna

I'm in love of the bleak atmosphere and the foreboding tone in when evil lurks there is no hope no one will get out unscathed I really enjoyed it and highly recommend it and antenna i will just say that there a bathtub scene that still makes me sick every time i remember it 😨

2 spooky shows

Kingdom and stranger from hell

Surprisingly both of these dramas came out in the same year on 2019 and they are both favorite to me in different ways in kingdom i guess it's the zombie media that I enjoyed and would re-watch again and strangers in hell is enjoyed the slow build of an ease and total isolation the ml and how he seem always find himself in more and more fucked up situations i think 🤔 i gravitate to hopelessness in horror hmm.

2 spooky music

Resident Evil 4 save room theme and scary by Megan thee stallion ft Rico nasty

Save room themes always make me feel unsafe and unsettled. Even though i never played the game, i was only watching my brother play it , but it's doesn't fail to give me anxiety and scary is fun banger I wish Megan would experiment with horror theme and sounds her hoping she releases something this Halloween 🎃

TAGGING

@mazzikah @turian @dirhwangdaseul @xenomorphique @halalgirlmeg @2violent2revolution @2spirit-0spoons @mina-kami @eggpngg @murnauk @divineandmajesticinone @jiniyad @kokorotoro @sourdieseldyke @wyndryga @theedgeofforever @userpeggycarter @romanreigns @captainsaltymuyfancy @tiredtwstoutt @gabajoofs @socalgal @neptunerings @timetravellingkitty @kahin @bryo-zoan @jezior0 @brokenbackmountain @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @buttercuparry @mysweetsageofgrace @fuckgimp

[inexplicablymine]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Here is a little more of Little Drummerboy, the rockstar drummer au!

(chapter two posted today this is a snippet from chapter 3)

A song lyrics snippet preview for the next chapter! And yes you should be reading between ALL of those lines ;) The song is entitled “Every other Weekend” you might possibly imagine this to a somewhat similar tune to Conan Gray’s Heather if you so please:

you tried it for years/love wasn't enough/the front yard grew weeds/roof started to rust/you said it’d get better/trashed every one of my letters/broke bicycle training/rust under the mainframe/the car you brought by/when you’d teach me to drive/every other weekend

why would you ever miss me/stuck half alive in your memories/you gave me your word/you left me unheard/I stay undeterred/till the worlds end/every other weekend

stuck behind, loveblind/aged out of a system of bliss filled remission/ wandering halls long empty phone calls/ you walk by, what a sight for sore eyes/ bleak words of admission/ every other weekend

why would you ever miss me/stuck half alive in your memories/you gave me your word/you left me unheard/I stay undeterred/till the worlds end/every other weekend

so I fucked it up/so I ran it off/so I blew a fuse/till the world stepped up/but then you took me down/ran the weekend gambit/took my love for granted/should’ve guessed you planned it/we struck a match/ burned the whole place down/ took the weekend off/ gave you the runaround/ but still you stand/ by that bygone date/ for your sacred meeting/ some sick twist of fate/ so I hold it up/ for all to see/ every other weekend/ but you’ll never get all of me (you’ll never get all of me)

stuck half alive in your memories/you gave me your word/you left me unheard/I stay undeterred/till the worlds end/every other weekend

Can’t wait to continue posting more of this over the course of February!!!

Read Here: Part 1 | Part 2

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[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Sydney's tower moment #Flimsywalls

And Carmy's.

So, as I mentioned here, Emanuel knows her walls are getting flimsier. And on shipping terms that is actually a good thing.

BUT

On Storer's terms, that may ALSO symbolically mean that Syd is about to come crumbling down and that her relationship with The Bear (both, restaurant and chef) is collapsing, which is what S3 was all about, basically.

I am team Syd threatening to quit Carmy's ass and THAT being the wake-up call he needs to turn it all around, that being said there is a chance that she actually does quit on him and then comes back, -as she usually does- in which case I wish she did that because he crawls and begs and rips Shapiro's head off in the process. Still, in either case, there is NO DOUBT IN MY MIND about Syd staying at The Bear and winning a star there, by Carmy's side, even maybe a JB award too. I'm basing this theory on the fact that they both hit rock bottom in 03x10 but I see that as a BREAKTHROUGH, not a breakdown.

Since Syd is clearly into tarot symbology as her 3 of swords ink indicates

I started thinking outside the box of the flimsy walls analogy I already went over in previous posts, so the image of a building collapsing came to mind, which immediately reminded me of the tower card, and turns out that the meaning of it fits the "Crying game" moment aforementioned.

I really don't wanna dig into it's meaning that deep because I think the superficial meaning fits perfectly, so there's no need to go deeper.

"This card is a powerful catalyst for change and personal transformation. You are being offered a fresh start and a chance to build stronger foundations in your life. This card brings a major life shift and the knowledge that things will never be the same."

How right on the money is that, right?

So both Carmy and Syd are at that evolutionary point of their journeys, they are mirroring each other in a very fucked up way, sure, but also... SOULMATISM.

Syd is at her breaking point and no matter what she chooses, nothing will be the same between Carmy and her after she makes her choice, and the very foundation of their whole relationship is being shaken and will have to be reformulated, re-built in a different and better way because status quo has no chance of being preserved.

"It has to get good or go away".

That's the tower energy that card represents, alongside the traumatic way in which events unfold, where the person feels is no longer in control, and that all those changes, no matter how necessary are being forced upon them. It's harsh.

Again, walls. Sydney is all about walls and for her to make the changes she has to make → (Their Synchronicity) she needed to go through her own tower moment. Carmy also went through his, exactly in the same season → (The end of Carmy). There's absolutely no coincidence in that.

"This card symbolizes the foundation of ashes in which the phoenix is born. The lightning-struck Tower is associated with chaos and destruction of boundaries."

Carmy was her lighting. And in a way, she was his too.

Love is an act of mirroring.

According to the tower card, after this collapse of walls, chaos and destruction, comes the "Phoenix moment". So, we're good. Don't dispair. She's gonna be just fine.

Sydcarmy will be just fine.

More about The tower tarot card → here.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋